


Tinyformers

by lesla



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, transformers but tiny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 10:50:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13950009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesla/pseuds/lesla
Summary: Because there can't be enough of these stories. Apparently.You work at a small toy store that isn't doing so well. Luckily, your boss has the perfect idea! Sell the hottest best selling toy on the market: tiny robots programmed to imprint and assist humans in whatever they could possibly want!What could go wrong?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted anything I've written online before so if there are any tips or suggestions, that would be great!

You hated children. 

Anyone younger than 16 could fuck right off. 

While you believed it started with your cousin, when they cut all the fur off your stuffed animals playing “beauty salon” and then buried them in the backyard to avoid punishment, your mother said you’d always hated being a kid. None of the adults took you seriously, your peers were annoying and quite frankly the world was too damn big. You were so thankful after you graduated, you’d never again have to be stuck in a room of screaming children. 

How you ended up working Devin’s Toy Chest, frequented mostly by children, was unknown. 

It was a small store, an old mom and pop shop that had been passed on after they died. Their son ran it now, a forty-five year old who hated people like you hated children. He was actually pretty nice when you got to know him, if a little strict. Your only coworker was one of the laziest individuals you’d ever met. However, they were excellent at conversing with even the crankiest of customers and for that, you and your boss were eternally grateful. 

Despite the fact that you three were clearly a finely tuned machine, the store wasn’t doing too hot. There were entire days that would go by where you wouldn’t see a single customer. Toys would sit on the shelve so long they would gather dust if you didn’t have so much time to clean. 

You were obviously on a sinking ship, but you stayed because did like your boss, you liked your hours and you did like the shop itself. It had a nostalgia feel. 

The morning has started ordinarily enough with you entering the empty store, punching in and sitting down behind the counter next to your coworker. 

Your coworker didn’t look up from their phone, “Bossman wants to talk to you.”

You pretended to be interested in the cash register, “Do you know why?”

They shrugged, “Maybe you’re getting a promotion.”

You’d never gotten a promotion in your life. You certainly weren’t going to get one here. Even though you never came in late, you weren’t very friendly with the customers and no matter what that father had said, that kid was totally in your blind spot. 

But maybe you were getting promoted. You’d never broken a toy (unlike some coworkers) and you never cut out early when there was work to do (unlike some coworkers). 

Manager. Managers did half the work for twice the pay, right? That sounded nice. 

Besides, what else would he want to talk to you about? 

You knocked on the door and opened it when you heard an affirmation. “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” You lied as you walked into your boss’s office.

You could barely see him from behind the piles of papers, folders and other trash on his desk. Walking over, you noticed that he was holding a framed photograph and gestured with it for you to take a seat. You did (confidently, yet attentively). When he placed the frame back on his desk, you could see it was a photo of him and his parents. Clearly dated (god, look at those outfits) but it was a nice photo with the couple holding their arms around each other’s waists and each had a hand on their child’s shoulder. 

Mr. Devin leaning back in his chair with a creak brought you back to attention, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a while now.”

Your heart stopped beating. Oh, my god, you were getting fired. 

You glanced down at the framed photo resting on the desk. Did those old geezers know that their bastard son was firing you? You, the backbone of this enterprise? 

Mr. Devin sighed, “I’ve known it had to happen sooner or later and it seems that this later is now. Listen. The store’s losing money. Bleeding it.” 

Mother always said this day would come.

“It’s on its last legs. My parents put their hearts and souls into this store. It was their biggest dream, to have a toyshop filled with shiny new toys and happy children. If Mom and Dad could see -” His voice broke and he reached for a tissue. 

Did he … want you to confront him? Was he trying to comfort you? You had no idea and sat in bewildered silence. 

He blew his nose, “Have you ever heard of Transformers?” 

You blinked. “Trans-what-ers?”

It was like a switch had went off. Your boss smiled as he explained, “Well, I think the full name is like ‘Super Robot Lifeform Transformers,’ I think there’s a Fight! in there somewhere too…”

You stared at him while he rambled and waited for him to take a breath, “Wait, you’re losing money and your solution is to buy more toys to sell?”

“Well, they’re not exactly toys,” Mr. Devin clarified, “They’re more of…’Autonomous Robotic Organisms.’ Most of the reports I’ve seen brag that they’re capable of artificial intelligence, reactive to human touch, that kind of thing. They imprint, kind of like pets, but not really if that makes sense. I’ve seen them marketed as a ‘Tamagotchi you can hold.’”

You nodded, not really understanding but not willing to admit it. 

“Go on the computer in the storage room and order some of them. I want you to look up the most popular ones, the coolest ones, the ones that turn into, I don’t know, jets or convertibles or stuff. Oh, and maybe some cute ones too.”

“… Okay…” You rose from your chair, your mind kind of blank. This whole meeting was kind of like a roller coaster. You went in thinking you were getting a promotion, to getting fired, now you were buying super robot toys with store money. 

“I’d ask our friend but…” He trailed off. 

“They’d just click ‘add all.’” 

“Right,” Mr. Devin smiled, “I can count on you, right?” 

Probably. “Right.” 

He followed you to the door, “But, uh, don’t go out of control, okay?”

You gave your boss a thumbs up and shut the door behind you. 

“Well, you’re not crying so that’s a good sign,” Your coworker greeted you with their normal charm as you made your way to the storage room. 

You reached the door and looked back to make a comment, but they were back to looking at their phone. 

Stepping into the dark storage room, illuminated only by the bright(ish) screen of a computer from 2006, you thought about what you were doing. 

If this didn’t work, your boss would sink all the money he had and have to close down his parent’s dream. Oh, and you’d be out of a job. Maybe you should be typing out job applications instead of wasting store money on toys that wouldn’t sell. But what kind of person would you be if you didn’t at least try?

Okay, for you, happy old couple. You were buying these super robots for them. 

It looked like an American site but most of the words were in Japanese next to low quality jpegs of what you suspected were the robots. Maybe, probably. Like that wasn’t going to be an issue or anything. You clicked on the first one, which looked like a purple tank, and opened a JPN-ENG translator while you were at it. 

Woah, that was a big number. You were glad you weren’t spending your own money. 

Scrolling down you found a few that caught your eye. You’d passed on most of the “Diseputikon” models or whatever they were called. They were way too expensive. Guess kids would have to pass on their fighter jets this year and their boom boxes (what was this, 1984?), their tanks and their life-sized guns? Like that was going to fly in America. 

Some of them were exclusive to certain institutions. For example, the Ratchet, Ambulon and Pharma models were limited to major hospitals. The First Aid one seemed open, so I added him to the cart in case some soccer moms wanted it to put some Band-Aids on their five-year old’s. It looked kinda cute too, from what you could tell.

Semi-trucks didn’t exactly strike you as “cool” but the website listed this “Optimus” fellow as the leader so kids would probably want him, right?

You added him to the list. 

Dinosaur robots. Did kids still like dinosaurs? Probably. Add. 

Jazz, now that name just screamed “cool.” Add. 

Helicopters. Helicopters were cool, right? Probably. Add. 

Scrolling down, you looked for others included in the same units, like the ones in the “Ark” and “Lost Light” groups. Skimming through you looked for what qualified as “cool/cute” in your boss’s eyes (and the eyes of children or whatever). 

You felt powerful, adding robots left and right. Your boss should put you in charge of ordering more often. 

After a while you realized when you kept scrolling, the screen didn’t change. Glancing down, you saw you’d hit the bottom. No more robots. It kind of made you feel sad. 

“How’s it going?” You nearly jumped out of your chair at your coworker’s voice.

“Fine,” You said trying to get your heartbeat back under control. 

“Bossman told me to tell you to add an Ultra Magnus. Whatever that means. It’s not a vibrator, right?”

“No, it’s a toy. A kid’s toy. A robot.” You rubbed your eyes. “What time is it?”

“That’s disappointing,” Nika patted you on your shoulders, “Time for you to go home. We’re closing early today; I’ve already clocked you out.” 

You couldn’t argue with that. There was a crick in your neck and your eyes were starting to sting. How long had you been sitting in the dark?

You clicked ‘confirm order’ and got up, swaying a bit. You felt a hand around your side and you let your coworker lead you from the room. “It’s okay, solider, war’s over.” They laughed and you had just enough energy to smile. 

Even though you were basically a zombie, you’d managed to get home safely. Your bed was calling you but there was something you needed to do first. 

You couldn’t find much online about the little buggers, despite your best efforts. You went on everything short of the Deep Web and could only scrap up a few Japanese sites auto-English translated claiming they were going to be the biggest toys of the holiday season. 

Yeah, okay sure. You yawned and shut your computer down. No doubt they were cheaply made piles of plastic that broke after their first transformation. And Artificial Intelligence? They didn’t even have character; some were even the same model just painted a different color! Maybe some grandmother was going to buy one of them but no way was any kid going to like it. 

Nobody was going like tiny robots that turned into cars.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a favorite can you tell

You had never seen the store this packed. Ever.

Most days you’d be lucky if there was one other car in your lot, maybe two if it was unusually busy. But this – this was Black Friday level parking chaos.

You aren’t happy about having to park in the lot across the street. You’re even unhappier about having to jog across the street in the rain in just a thin jacket. Unhappiest even about getting a phone call and having to come in an hour early. 

The long line of people look even grumpier than you. Only one or two have raincoats, the rest are soaked to the bone. You try to walk past them when a teenage girl grabs your arm, “You have a Mirage model, right? Tell me you have a Mirage model!”

“Yes,” You say, hoping it’s true, “Please wait patiently, the store will be opening soon.”

The girl seems pleased with that and releases her grip on your arm. The boy behind her slumps, “You guys have been saying that all morning!”

You squeeze through the crowd towards the door with a couple “I’m sorrys,” “Excuse mes” and a few “Yes, sir, I really do work here so let me inside so I can sell your daughter a stupid yellow bug!”)

You don’t think your co-worker has ever been so happy to see you. Their face lights up through the glass and they creak the door open. You slip through before the crowd can rush it.

“What’s going on?”

Nika looks at you like you’re an idiot, “Do you live under a rock? They’re all here because of the Transformers!”

It had been weeks since you’d even thought about the Transformagifiers or whatever they were called. But, thinking back on it now, you did remember a talk show mentioning them. The guest star – Arkeville, you think it was? – was boasting about the technological capabilities and the amount of processing power each had and right about then you had changed the channel.

“Bossman wants you to help in the storage room,” They glance through the door, “And hurry.”

Inside its warm and dry but you still shiver as you make your way through the store. Before you go into the storage room, you turn for one last look at your coworker attempting to calm the crowd.

Stay strong.

The first thing you hear when you open the door is the clanging of heavy metal hitting the ground and muffled cursing. You peek around and see Mr. Devin picking a crowbar up off the ground. He sees you and waves. 

“Good morning to you, too,” You say, stifling a yawn.

“We got the shipment in late last night,” Your boss says walking around the crate. “Second time’s the charm,” He mutters as he jams the crowbar into the side and cracks it open. 

The boxes inside are packed like sardines. They’re faced the other way around so you can’t see which ones are which. You pick up the first one. Bumblebee-hey, you know that one! It looks pretty cute, round and yellow with big blue eyes.

Seeing the look of pure fear in those optics almost makes you drop the unboxing knife. “Are these things…alive?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘alive.’” Your boss hums, “They’re highly advanced AI capable of pleasure and pain, but is it alive like you and me? No.”

You look at Bumblebee’s face and feel unsure. At any rate, you want to get him out of that box ASAP. Carefully, you slice the box open and unwrap the plastic wires restraining yellow limbs. Once he’s free, he launches himself out of the plastic.

Bumblebee immediately transforms and zooms around the room. You can’t help but smile at the tiny car. He disappears behind some crates and you lightly jog to catch up to him. You follow the hymn of his tiny engine and are just in time to see him disappear out the door. You break into a sprint.

As soon as Bumblebee is within eyesight of the crowd, they lose it. The screaming startles the little yellow car and he swerves into a shelf of dolls.

You jog over and scoop up the little yellow car. You’re happy that the dolls are soft so he’s unharmed. Not that tiny metal robots could be hurt. And not that you care about toys. Bumblebee transforms in your hands (which is the weirdest sensation) and tries to jump out of them. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay,” You pet his head as you walk back into the storage room.

Your boss has finished unpacking most of the boxes. You notice that there’s a Mirage so the girl outside will be happy. You put Bumblebee down by the rest of the boxes. He starts pounding on the plastic covering. “Aw, he wants to let the others out.”

Nika appears in the doorway, “I can’t calm them down anymore.”

“We’re almost done, just one more,” You examine the last box. It was probably on the bottom when the crate had been dropped; its corners are bent and its crumbled on one side.

“It’s all beat up,” You try to read the side of the box, “I think it says Whirl-”

A claw shoots through the side of the box and you jump back. The box jumps around as the claw rips a hole through the cardboard. You see a yellow optic before the tiny robot transforms into a helicopter. It shoots out of the box and into the air, making a break for the exit.

“Shut the door so he doesn’t get out!” You scream.

Nika slams the door shut and the helicopter screeches as it flies in circles.

Your sophomore year, a raven flew into your science class room. The rule had been as long as the class was quiet and working, the windows could stay open. While your class had screamed, frozen in fear or screamed frozen in fear, your teacher had made a makeshift net out of her blazer.

She had always been the coolest teacher, you think to yourself as your fling your jacket. 

The force of the helicopter hitting your jacket nearly knocks your arms out of their sockets and succeeds in knocking you to the floor. You roll on top of the thrashing, hissing bundle.

“Okay, now what?” Your coworker asks.

“I was hoping you had a… cage or something.”

“I don’t. This is a toy store, not an animal sanctuary.”

This could be a problem. The thrashing is getting more erratic and the hissing is getting louder. 

“Whirl,” You say loudly to the bundle, “If you behave, I will let you out.”

The thrashing stops. You reach under the jacket and immediately cry out as your fingers are crunched. 

“It—bit me!”

Your co-worker looks at the box, “It doesn’t have a mouth. I mean, I don’t think there’s one. Maybe it pinched you?”

The claws, you remember. You look up and see some wrapping tape. You reach up to grab it and the tiny robot fumbles his way through the cloth. As soon as he makes his way through you get your first good look at him. 

He’s teal-ish shade of blue with spindly limbs connected to big black claws. He does indeed have only one optic in his cylinder head. He skitters backward on his reverse chicken legs until he’s pressed against the wall. You tear some off some tape and wrap Whirl’s claws shut. He hisses and thrashes the entire time. You stand up as soon as you finish and the three of you watch as Whirl tries to pull his claws apart. 

“He’s like the angriest bluest robo-lobster,” Nika says. “Is he broken? The other toys don’t look like him."

Mr. Devin scratches the back of his head, “We’ll have to send him back. I don’t think we can sell him.” 

Before you even know what you’re saying, you speak up, “I’ll take him.”

Your boss looks doubtful, “Are you sure? He looks like…a handful.”

That’s an understatement. “Yes, I’m sure.”

He sighs, “Okay, if nobody else wants to buy him, he’s yours. For free.”

With that he sends you back to work. The three of you set the boxes on the shelf nearest the counter. You place the Mirage one near the back so that you can only see him if you really look for it. The feeling of being watched by tiny, frightened optics freaks you out a little, but it doesn’t seem that Mr. Devin or Nika notice. Bumblebee is placed front and center and you put Whirl next to you on the counter. Nika opens the door and it’s like a scene out of a zombie movie. 

The crowd rushes the shelf, grabbing any box they can reach. Only about half of the people start waiting in line with boxes in their hands, the other half demanding to your boss when the next shipment is coming in.

Your line is by far the shortest. Customers take one look at the aggressive, bent helicopter and pay at the very edge of the counter. Since you see so little people, you do notice that girl did find the Mirage toy. You feel a little better seeing the smiling faces taking them home.

Within the hour, you’re sold out. The rest of the day is slow. Occasionally, someone will come by and ask if you have any left (“Are you sure? How about in the back?”). Even though the day is slow, you couldn’t be happier. With every hour that passes, you grow more and more excited. Whirl is still crabby but he’s growing on you and you’re eager to bring him home.

As soon as the ‘closed’ sign is flipped, Nika collapses over the counter.

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad. Think of all the little kids that are going to get their transformigiffer things.”

“I’d feel better if 2/3 of them weren’t going to be returned next week,” Nika groans.

You wrap Whirl up in your jacket (Number 1 rule: these toys can’t get wet) and get ready to go home. Whirl thrashes futilely. Nika rolls their shoulders and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait!” Your boss shouts with an uncharacteristic smile, “We have one last box!”

You both walk after him as he runs into his office. He pulls a box out from behind his desk, bigger than any of the other boxes you’ve seen.

“It’s the Ultra Magnus model you ordered,” He explains as he opens the box, “They’re micro managers. Good at organization and giving orders. He’ll fill in until our new manager gets here.”

Nika mouths new manager? at you but your attention is on the box being opened.

Ultra Magnus is just under a foot tall (counting the shoulder pads). His optics come online and the three of you watch as he takes in his new environment. He looks at you and you get the feeling you’re about to receive a never-ending lecture.  
He takes two steps forward before nearly tripping over the papers and folders that litter your boss’s desk. You watch his face as he takes in just how much crap is everywhere in the office. He almost looks offended. Ultra Magnus gets down on his hands and knees, throwing away garbage at a frantic pace.

“I heard Ultra Magnus models hated trash but I didn’t know it was to this extent,” Mr. Devin says.

Whirl’s fighting your jacket more now and you’re afraid he’s going to rip a hole through it, “We should be heading home now.”

The rain’s mostly stopped so driving's easy. No one's out this late in this part of town, so you're home in a blink. The trip is only a little stressful, Whirl can’t seem to bust out of the jacket.

Once you get home and unwrap him, you realize just how many breakable things are in your home. By the time you save object, he’s targeted another one. It’s like a game: who can reach the fragile vaulables first. By the time you babyproof (or robotproof) your home, you’re exhausted. Luckily, Whirl seems to be equally spent. His flying is more like droopy hopping and his hissing is quieter. 

You’re too tired to shower and just crawl into bed. As you settle into your blankets, Whirl flies onto your head. You wince as his pointed feet dig into your scalp. You feel him turn around a few times before settling against the pillow and your head.

Maybe he’s showing his dominance. Or maybe he likes you.

Either way, it doesn’t bother you too much.

You have the best sleep you’ve had in a long time.


End file.
